The bridge has only been there about 400 years but the Duff hadn’t seen it before. However by the time we had left Tullyhogue The Duff had certainly become acquainted with it. “Watch these oul bends” warned the Master Craftsman “they’re a bit dodgy.” The road was probably a bit greasy and that maybe led the Duff into the wall of the bridge. The Duff’s brakes seemed to seize or something but before we knew it he was caressing the bricks and giving them a wee kiss or two. There was even the track of one of the bricks on his nose but at least he was in one piece. The Master Craftsman swerved round the Duff with the skill of a formula one driver while the Oil Man looked on wondering what all the fuss was about. But at least he asked the Duff how he was feeling.
For some of the Square Wheels it had been the first run since the festive season. Sir Alex was out of retirement on his fancy Trek delivered down his chimney by Santa Clause. Fred Astaire was there riding bare back like John Wayne on his favourite steed despite showing the signs of too many selection boxes and mince pies. The Igloo Man was gloveless too now that his sore finger has mended. The Marzipan Man had a worried look on his chops as he hadn’t been out for a while either but had packed away some stuff over the break. He was complaining that his bike is really for time trialists and that it mightn’t be strong enough to carry him given the amount of chocolate he ate over Christmas. His tyres were pumped up good and hard just in case.
The Conoisseur had suffered bladder issues over Christmas probably due to over dosing on Buckfast when he was away on the piste. The peloton had to stop in Ardboe to find him a toilet which was hard enough but worth it in the end. The steam rising out of the shop put the local fire brigade on alert. He was lighter after that and cycled a bit faster than usual. The Igloo Man tried to steal one of the better bikes on leaving Ardboe but was soon caught red handed.
Black Rod was going well too. He led the peloton all the way from the start which was mainly down to his emergency training during the week to try to get him back into some sort of shape. He was joined by the older Schleck who was out for the first time in 8 weeks but determined to enjoy himself anyway. There was no sign however of The Younger Schleck. Rumour had it that his current wife would not lend him her gogo to put around his cycling shoe to keep it in one place.
The Roller Beast joined Black Rod at the front of the the peloton as it snaked its way from Moy Square to Coalisland and on to Ardboe following the shores of Lough Neagh. After The Conoisseur relieved himself we pushed on to Magherafelt and the tea break. There were buns galore to top up the energy compliments of Fred and both of the Oil Men. The Master Carpenter once again ordered the Sunday roast and every one stood and watched him eat it. “That was a meal fit for a prince” he said...”here Prince, here Prince, whistle, whistle.”
From Magherafelt some of the members fancied a shorter run so they followed The Faygin and The Colnago Man back to the Moy for a handsome spin of 50 miles. The bigger boys followed the likes of The Barbarian and Black Rod towards the Sperrins which were covered in snow. The Roller Beast got a bit emotional as we cycled up to Lough Fea. He had claimed that he had never been on the road before but tried hard to fight back the tears when he realised that he had been on it literally when he fell off a few months ago on his first run with the club.
Before long thanks to a few jelly babies, we were descending from Lough Fea which was a funny colour, and into Cookstown where there was a stop or 2 to let everyone regroup following Black Rod’s puncture. The Duff suggested that we all go into one of the pubs for hot whiskeys to warm us up but the general consensus was to carry on to Newmill past The Duff’s bridge and back to the Moy again behind the Master Carpenter and Oil Man to complete a run of 70 miles at a pace to suit all.
For some of the Square Wheels it had been the first run since the festive season. Sir Alex was out of retirement on his fancy Trek delivered down his chimney by Santa Clause. Fred Astaire was there riding bare back like John Wayne on his favourite steed despite showing the signs of too many selection boxes and mince pies. The Igloo Man was gloveless too now that his sore finger has mended. The Marzipan Man had a worried look on his chops as he hadn’t been out for a while either but had packed away some stuff over the break. He was complaining that his bike is really for time trialists and that it mightn’t be strong enough to carry him given the amount of chocolate he ate over Christmas. His tyres were pumped up good and hard just in case.
The Conoisseur had suffered bladder issues over Christmas probably due to over dosing on Buckfast when he was away on the piste. The peloton had to stop in Ardboe to find him a toilet which was hard enough but worth it in the end. The steam rising out of the shop put the local fire brigade on alert. He was lighter after that and cycled a bit faster than usual. The Igloo Man tried to steal one of the better bikes on leaving Ardboe but was soon caught red handed.
Black Rod was going well too. He led the peloton all the way from the start which was mainly down to his emergency training during the week to try to get him back into some sort of shape. He was joined by the older Schleck who was out for the first time in 8 weeks but determined to enjoy himself anyway. There was no sign however of The Younger Schleck. Rumour had it that his current wife would not lend him her gogo to put around his cycling shoe to keep it in one place.
The Roller Beast joined Black Rod at the front of the the peloton as it snaked its way from Moy Square to Coalisland and on to Ardboe following the shores of Lough Neagh. After The Conoisseur relieved himself we pushed on to Magherafelt and the tea break. There were buns galore to top up the energy compliments of Fred and both of the Oil Men. The Master Carpenter once again ordered the Sunday roast and every one stood and watched him eat it. “That was a meal fit for a prince” he said...”here Prince, here Prince, whistle, whistle.”
From Magherafelt some of the members fancied a shorter run so they followed The Faygin and The Colnago Man back to the Moy for a handsome spin of 50 miles. The bigger boys followed the likes of The Barbarian and Black Rod towards the Sperrins which were covered in snow. The Roller Beast got a bit emotional as we cycled up to Lough Fea. He had claimed that he had never been on the road before but tried hard to fight back the tears when he realised that he had been on it literally when he fell off a few months ago on his first run with the club.
Before long thanks to a few jelly babies, we were descending from Lough Fea which was a funny colour, and into Cookstown where there was a stop or 2 to let everyone regroup following Black Rod’s puncture. The Duff suggested that we all go into one of the pubs for hot whiskeys to warm us up but the general consensus was to carry on to Newmill past The Duff’s bridge and back to the Moy again behind the Master Carpenter and Oil Man to complete a run of 70 miles at a pace to suit all.